Lone Wolf
by potidaea
Summary: AU/Pre-Coven, Misty Day takes in a stray dog


Independent. Lone wolf. Misty Day had heard any and all combinations of such descriptors throughout her life. She would readily admit her need for independence. But a lone wolf? Her? Never. She thrived off interacting with other beings, connecting with the world around her. But people were not the kindest of creatures. They often ridiculed or misjudged her for her gifts, her individuality. So instead, she focused her energy on animals. They had the purest souls she had ever experienced. Unlike humans, they made it out of the Industrial Revolution relatively untouched by capitalistic desire. The only evidence of their trial was zoos; a human invention, made for profit. But animals? Their only currency was Mother Nature's system of checks and balances.

Misty could spend all day and night at the swamp, talking to the crocodilians, birds, and whatever else made it's way to the swamp. She preferred it that way. It was peaceful, therapeutic. To her amazement, she woke to a stray dog on her doorstep one warm May morning. As hard as she thought, she couldn't figure a path in which he wasn't gator food, but by some miracle he was alive. Maybe it was an unwritten law of nature, or maybe the large reptiles were asleep - or just plain full. She held the door open as she met the gaze of a rough looking black dog who looked to be some sort of Labrador Retriever mix. He was eerily skinny, at just half his expected weight. "Well, what're y' waitin' for? An invitation?"

His ears perked up as she walked back into the house, "C'm'on, now!"

The dog sprung to his feet with as much agility as possible, following behind the blonde. He watched as she pulled out a can of soup from a canvas bag in the corner. "Now, I ain't got much, but we can share, all right?" The dog stared anxiously at the food in her hand. "I was savin' this for an emergency. I think this counts."

The woman poured half a can into a bowl for the dog, intending on saving the other half for herself. After a glance at the starved mutt, she decided to go without. "You need this more than I do," she said, dumping the rest into the bowl in a sizable heap.

As she bent down to feed the animal, he nervously backed away, scared that she might harm him, as others clearly had. After placing the bowl on the floor with an "Eat, it's good" she retreated to her corner of the small hut.

The dog slowly stepped forward, sniffing the bowl to ensure its safety, before ravenously lapping at the soup.

The pair continued like that for nearly a month before the dog - who she had affectionately named Buckingham, Buck for short - allowed her to feed him up close.

It took another two weeks before she was able to pet him, and he didn't seem all that interested. She still tried anyway. Another month passed and he still refused to sleep anywhere but the doorway. The woman thought she saw him shift closer to the bed, but she didn't get her hopes up.

Then one night, Misty had a nightmare - a memory, really. It was about her family - or at least who she used to call family. They were bullying her, taunting her about her magic. The Devil's Spawn, her mother said. Her father watched as she was dragged her off into a field to be burned at the stake. Her catechism teacher dropped the match at her feet, watched as the flames rose. Suddenly, the hot flames became wet against her face. The fire was dissipating.

She awoke, startled to see two dark eyes, a wet nose pressing at her neck. Confused at first, she slowly recognized the sensation as Buck. They had never been so close; he hadn't allowed it. But he had sensed her distress and woke her, she realized, grateful for his presence.

The blonde witch reached up to rub the Lab's neck in thanks. Then, tentatively, she scooted to one side of the bed, patting the empty space beside her. "C'm'ere, big man." Buck jumped up onto the mattress, curling up next to his blonde friend. Petting his side, Misty spoke to the dog appreciatively, "Forget Lindsey Buckingham, you belong at Buckingham Palace my little knight in shining armor." The dog's ears perked up as she spoke, "Yeah, you. What'd'ya think, Buck? I bet those royal dogs are livin' large."

He responded with a long, slimy lick to his friend's face before dropping his head back down onto the bed to sleep.

Misty smiled. She would make a friend out of him yet.


End file.
